


Setting Fire To Our Insides For Fun

by distortedreality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distortedreality/pseuds/distortedreality
Summary: “You do look like a bit of a tortured artist,” Derek said as he drunk what had to be his fourth rum and coke since he sat down. Stiles wasn’t sure what a tortured artist looked like. Or how one acted. He decided to just nod in acceptance, because apparently that was all he could muster up as a reply. Inside he was kicking himself. Here he was, at a nightclub talking to a gorgeous stranger over drinks, but acting like an awkward, drunk teenager who had never done this before. Which is exactly what he was, but he decided to push that thought away. Fake it til you make it, and all that.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I found this fic from years ago on my computer and decided to finally post it. Enjoy :)

Stiles was drunk. Very drunk. So drunk he would probably have hit on any of the males in the nightclub, given they didn’t run away screaming immediately; but not quite drunk enough to forget about Lydia Martin. So not nearly drunk enough. Earlier that day Stiles had finally gathered up the courage to inform Lydia that he had been crushing on her for years. She had laughed. Admittedly, detailing his feelings in a note like a fourth grader was probably not the best option, but it had been done. And now Stiles could move on. As soon as he was too drunk to remember Lydia existed, anyway.

Not only was Lydia his reason for drinking, but she was also the reason Stiles had somehow wrangled himself into a gay nightclub. He didn’t exactly want to see any girls right at that point, particularly ones with long strawberry blonde hair. Thankfully, that night happened to be a males only night at the club. The only other time Stiles had gotten properly drunk was in the woods with Scott on an old bottle of whiskey he had stolen from his dad’s liquor cabinet. As yet another example of one of Stiles’ bad ideas, he had topped up the bottle with apple juice. That one had certainly earned a disappointed yet slightly amused talk from his dad.

Accosting Danny had turned out to be one of his slightly better ideas. Since Stiles didn’t know any gay clubs, let alone ones which would hopefully let him through the doors, he turned to one of the only openly gay people he knew. Yes, he felt slightly guilty about asking Danny solely because of his sexuality, but he didn’t seem to mind. Danny kept the same confused expression throughout the conversation, anyway, so Stiles chose to believe that Danny wasn’t offended. Danny had made it very clear that if Stiles got turned away at the door he would be on his own, but by some grace of God the bouncer had waived him through.

Stiles thought the nightclub was perhaps the best one that he’d been to. Which isn’t to say much since it was the only one he’d been to. And he was spectacularly drunk, so everyone in the room could have sprouted an extra head and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“You after another?” the bartender asked as he cleared away the empty glasses in front of Stiles.

“Yeah, one of those pink ones, thanks.” Stiles wasn’t even sure what he was drinking, but it tasted bloody good. Danny, who he hadn’t even seen since they walked in together, had advised him not to order a Sex On The Beach, even after Stiles protested that it was one of the only cocktails he knew. So he was trusting the infinite wisdom of the bartender.

“Hi,” Stiles heard faintly over the thumping bass. He turned on his chair to see what had to be a genetically modified human standing next to him. Seriously, the dude had like a perfectly symmetrical face. And gorgeous eyes. And white teeth. And oh god he was sitting down in the chair next to Stiles.

“Are you even old enough for me to buy you a drink?” he asked with a smirk.

“Well I got in didn’t I?” Stiles practically yelled over the music. He thought it was a pretty good retort. No need for the model next to him to know his actual age. Stiles wouldn’t say no to a free drink, particularly since he had cringed at the price he was currently paying for cocktails. Not that he was sober enough to pay attention to the price anymore.

“That’ll be $12,” the bartender said as placed another large, pink drink in front of Stiles. The guy next to him look far more amused by Stiles’ choice of drink than Stiles would have liked him to.

“I’ll have a rum and coke,” model boy told the bartender as he handed over his credit card. “Put anything he’s racked up on it too.” Stiles practically saw stars.

“So are you drinking those ironically, or do you actually enjoy them?” Mystery man gestured to the drink Stiles was now sipping at a rapid pace.

“Hey, don’t knock them til you try them. They’re pretty good. Don’t even know what they are, actually, but they taste like blended up lollipops.” The guy said something which was drowned out by the crowd signing along to some pop song the DJ had put on, so Stiles leaned in closer. He nearly fell of the chair in the process, but he liked to think he covered it well. Obviously tall dark and handsome didn’t quite agree, as he shot out a hand to keep Stiles from falling. He said his name right up against Stiles’ ear, which he was pretty sure was Eric. Or possibly Derek. Wait, there was a hard D, so probably the latter option. Stiles enunciated his own name so badly as a reply that he was pretty sure the poor guy had less knowledge of his name than before he even asked the question.

“So what brings a guy like yourself here on a Thursday night?” Derek asked as he downed his drink in an impressive time. Stiles was certainly impressed.

“Just, you know, living it up.” Stiles would have cringed if he wasn’t so drunk he could barely hear his own thoughts.

“And what do you like to do for fun, Stiles?” Oh god, this guy was ridiculously attractive and now he was looking at Stiles through his lashes in a way more seductive manner than what Stiles was prepared for. It was also making it extremely difficult for Stiles to think of any hobbies that didn’t give him away immediately as a high schooler. Oh god, he had been thinking way too long now and Derek was probably concerned.

“Uh, just classes. And things. Some sports. Driving around.” Stiles desperately hoped he could pass off that answer as one of someone who attended college rather than high school. He also hoped that Derek had enough alcohol in his system to have completely ignored everything Stiles just said, because it was far more awkward than he had intended for it to be.

“Let me guess, an English major?” Stiles nodded because he probably would have agreed to anything Derek said at that point. He also took English as one of his classes, so maybe it wasn’t a total lie. That was what he told himself, anyway.

“You do look like a bit of a tortured artist,” Derek said as he drunk what had to be his fourth rum and coke since he sat down. Stiles wasn’t sure what a tortured artist looked like. Or how one acted. He decided to just nod in acceptance, because apparently that was all he could muster up as a reply. Inside he was kicking himself. Here he was, at a nightclub talking to a gorgeous stranger over drinks, but acting like an awkward, drunk teenager who had never done this before. Which is exactly what he was, but he decided to push that thought away. Fake it til you make it, and all that.

There was a lull in the music as one song transitioned to the next. Derek leaned forward to take advantage of the lowered volume. “Want to head somewhere else?” And now Stiles was officially freaking out. But only internally. Please let it only be visible internally.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he exclaimed with perhaps slightly more gusto than intended. If Derek saw him stumble as they walked towards the exit he didn’t let it show. Which, thank god, because Stiles really didn’t want to blow this. Whatever this was. He caught sight of Danny just after Derek stepped through the exit. He raised his hand in a wave, which was returned by Danny’s unoccupied hand; the other of which resided on the arm of the guy he was dancing with. _Good for him_ , Stiles thought, before remembering that he was actually _in the process_ of leaving with someone. Which was actually quite exciting, if Stiles allowed himself such a teenage thought.

“So help me, Stilinski, if you manage to stuff up whatever this,” Stiles muttered to himself. The bouncer gave him a nod as he slipped out the door, which he returned in a far less dignified manner. Derek was waiting near the door, fiddling with something in his pocket.

“Should we call a ride?” Stiles asked. There were no taxis parked out the front of the club at the moment, though there would likely be some if they waited a few minutes.

“No, I have my car.” Derek replied, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Now, sober Stiles may not have some of the best ideas, however he was never downright stupid. Drunk Stiles was downright stupid. He accepted Derek’s answer that he was fine to drive, and followed him around the corner to where the car was parked. Then again, sober Stiles would have never gotten in this situation in the first place, so perhaps it was time to stop listening to sober Stiles. Drunk Stiles clearly had more fun.

Derek had a very nice car, which shouldn’t have surprised Stiles, as everything about this guy had been nice so far. Especially his face. Boy had a nice face.

“My place isn’t too far from here, if that’s ok with you.” Oh god what was Stiles supposed to reply. He wanted to sound cool. Like he’d done this a million times.

“Radical” was what he managed to come up with. _Yep, missed the whole ‘cool’ element on that one,_ Stiles chastised himself internally. Derek just grinned. Stiles hoped he was coming off as endearing and not completely off his face. Scott’s mom said he was endearing the other day, so he decided to keep going with that.

Admittedly, Stiles did start getting nervous when Derek stopped driving through the town and started driving into the woods.

“Finding a secluded place to kill me?” Stiles asked. He wasn’t sure whether he meant it as a joke at this point. Derek, however, laughed and flashed a very white smile at Stiles before replying with “only if you asked me to”. Stiles decides he is too drunk to properly reciprocate the level of flirting Derek was obviously comfortable with. After a few minutes they reached a clearing in which stood a very large and very old house.

“Wow,” Stiles remarked under his breath. He hoped Derek wasn’t taking him to meet his whole freaking family because one guy could certainly not live here all by himself. He followed Derek up the stairs and stepped inside, being momentarily blinded when Derek flipped on the lights in the entryway.

“Uh, could I use your bathroom?” Derek pointed down a short hallway by the stairs. Stiles practically ran there, bee lining straight for the sink.

“You can do this, Stiles. Just like, go with it.” Probably not the best pep talk, but it would have to do.

Derek was drinking a beer in the kitchen when Stiles walked out. He grabbed another out of the fridge and somehow popped the top off with his finger. Stiles took it and just about downed it in one go. He figured he would need to keep up his liquor intake if he wanted to avoid second guessing himself every 5 seconds.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” Stiles really didn’t know how to go about this. Derek let out a small laugh in response. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Stiles since he’d walked in the room.

“Fuck it,” Stiles muttered. He downed his beer and walked forward until he was practically touching toes with Derek.

“You need something?” Derek had an infuriating smirk on his face.

“Yeah, actually.” Stiles pressed his lips to Derek’s and slid one hand into his hair. Derek let out a fantastic little sigh and started kissing Stiles back even harder. He pressed his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, licking and taking what he pleased. None of the small amount of kisses Stiles had received in his life compared to this. The way Derek moved his lips and tongue was phenomenal. His hand gripped Stiles’ arm, and the other slid to the small of his back, pressing their bodies together. Stiles moaned into Derek’s mouth as their bulges pressed together. He could feel the smirk back on Derek’s lips, and kissed him even harder as a reply. Derek broke the kiss, ushering Stiles out of the room. He followed Derek to a bedroom on the second floor. As he closed the door behind him Derek flipped him around and pressed him firmly into the wood, sucking marks down Stiles’ neck. He felt himself go embarrassingly weak at the knees when Derek reached a spot just between his jawline and his ear. Stiles moaned loudly and grabbed at Derek’s ass which was unfortunately still clad in denim. He pushed Derek back and took off his own shirt. Derek’s eyes had turned dark with lust.

“Think you can push me around?” Derek asked, advancing back onto a now shirtless Stiles, who just about whimpered at his words. Derek practically picked Stiles up and threw him on the bed next to them. Stiles watched as Derek removed his clothes and revealed the impossibly sculpted body he had been hiding.

“Fuck.” Stiles bit his lip and started to unbutton his jeans. Derek leant down and pulled them completely off, leaving both of them in just their underwear. Stiles reached up to grab Derek’s arm, pulling him down on top of Stiles. Derek slotted perfectly in between Stiles’ spread thighs, and began to run his hands up and down them, sucking kisses from his stomach to the waistband of his boxer briefs. Stiles reached down to rub himself through the cotton, precum darkening the colour. In what seemed like a split second Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and held down on the bed.

“Don’t touch yourself. Not yet.” Derek breathed. His pupils were so wide only a small line of blue could be seen. Stiles moaned half in annoyance and half in pleasure, as Derek dropped his head to suck at Stiles’ cock through his underwear.

“Christ would you stop teasing _please._ ” Stiles was having a hard time forming word at this point. Derek stood to pull off his Calvin Klein’s, dick smacking against his stomach. It seemed impossibly big and Stiles was actually a little concerned for how it might fit. He kicked off his own underwear, sending them flying halfway across the room. Stiles scooted to the end of the bed, pulling Derek towards him. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what giving a blowjob would feel like, and now seemed like the perfect time to try it out. Derek’s dick felt huge and warm in his mouth, taking up far more room than he anticipated. He pulled back to lick the tip before sliding his lips as far down the length of Derek’s dick as he could go. He used one hand to work the base, and the other to roll Derek’s balls around in the palm of one hand. Derek swore, and started moving his hips in time with the rhythm Stiles had set, his other hand twining in his partner’s brown hair.

“Shit stop.” Derek pulled Stiles’ head back and let out a few deep breaths. “Can I fuck you?” Stiles thought he might break his neck if he nodded any harder. Derek pushed him back to lay on the bed, covering Stiles with his body. He reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube and a shiny square.

“Sorry if it’s a bit cold,” Derek said apologetically and he squirted the bottle over his fingers. Stiles couldn’t have cared less about the temperature of the bloody lube. He gasped as Derek gently pushed a finger into the pucker of muscle, and moaned when he opened enough for two. His moans were swallowed by the mouth of the boy pressing into him. He was pretty sure he started to beg by the third finger. Somehow Derek was about to hit his prostate with every push of his fingers, managing to curl them just right to line up with Stiles’ body. His dick had smeared all over his and Derek’s stomach, though he was pretty sure Derek’s precum was mixed in too. Finally Derek sat back and ripped open the condom, rolling it down his length. He pushed Stiles’ legs up and pressed the head of his dick to Stiles’ ass.

“God _come on_ already.” Stiles was getting bratty, but in his defense Derek had gotten him to the edge multiple times now. Derek smirked.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He pushed his whole length into Stiles, holding his legs up and pressing in to the hilt. Stiles was pretty sure he blacked out for a second. Derek leaned back down to lay over Stiles, bracing himself with one hand and keeping his leg bent with the other. He began to rock back and forth, not quite pulling himself out, letting Stiles adjust to the size. After a moment he pulled out so far Stiles thought he might be calling it quits, before slamming back into him with an incredible force. Stiles sincerely hoped nobody else was in the house at that moment because he was swearing like a sailor. He reached up to grab the headboard as Derek pushed his legs open further, fucking into his stretched open hole.

Stiles literally couldn’t take it any longer. He reached down to tug at his throbbing dick, timing each movement with Derek’s thrusts. Judging by Derek’s increasingly loud moans he wasn’t far away either. What pushed Stiles over the edge was Derek leaning his head down to suck on Stiles’ neck, his warm breath ghosting over the marks and sending hot flushes all down his body. The muscles in his legs jerked and he tightened around Derek as he came, sending ropes of cum spurting over both their stomachs. After a few thrusts Derek’s body stuttered and he bit down onto Stiles’ neck as he came. Derek pulled out and retreated to the bathroom, giving Stiles a view of his perfect ass as he walked away.

It took quite a bit of effort to find where he had flung his underwear but eventually Stiles found it behind the now open door, along with his shirt.  He was pulling his pants back on when Derek appeared in the doorway.

“I called you a cab,” he explained. Though Stiles had expected it, it still left him with a pang of – what? Shame? Rejection? He wasn’t sure.

“Thanks, man.” Stiles ran his hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to ask for Derek’s number or not. How did this kind of thing even work? He didn’t end up getting it, nor did he attempt to kiss Derek goodbye at the door. Now that their tryst was over Derek seemed colder than before. Stiles wondered if he’d maybe done something to upset Derek, but didn’t think it was really his place to ask.

“I’ll see you round I guess?” Derek offered only a nod in reply. He shut the door behind Stiles and the lights of the taxi came into view.


	2. II

Stiles felt like crap when he woke up the next morning. Not only was head spinning and his stomach churning, but he could certainly feel where Derek had been the night before. He would have skipped school that day, except his dad was at home pouring over a case. He definitely wouldn’t buy that Stiles had spontaneously come down with the flu over the last 12 hours.

He ambled his way to the bathroom, wincing every time he took too large a step. The water didn’t help much and he vomited in the shower, steam filling his lungs. _Maybe if I throw up my breakfast all over the kitchen dad will let me stay home,_ Stiles pondered, but only for a moment. He dressed as carefully as he could while moving his body as little as possible and went downstairs. His dad raised his eyebrows at him as he lowered himself as carefully as possible into a chair and slowly chewed his plain toast.

“You alright, Stiles?” His dad asked. Stiles could only muster up a small grin in return.

Scott was far more invasive than the sheriff when Stiles pulled into a carpark at school.

“Dude what the hell happened to you last night? You look wrecked.” Scott had these puppy dog eyes that made it impossible to lie.

“I went out. With, uh, Danny I guess.” It wasn’t a total lie. He did walk into the nightclub with Danny.

“You went out?” Scott looked smug. Why did Scott look smug.

“Yeah, you know me. Always hitting up the town.”

“Uh huh. Ok.” Scott didn’t probe further until he saw Stiles’ apparent inability to walk like a normal human. “Did you pull a leg muscle or something? Should we go to the nurse?” Scott grabbed Stiles’ arm to keep him from going any further.

“No, jeez. I’m fine. I’m – well not totally fine. Scott, did you know that gay guys find me attractive? Well one at least.” Scott’s eyes went wide.

“You slept with _Danny_?” Oh wow he hadn’t expected Scott to go there so quickly. He thought about maybe just saying it was Danny. But then again there was no way Danny wouldn’t find out and he would have no qualms setting the record straight.

“Nope. But your buddy is no longer residing in the town of Virginville.” Stiles raised his arms above his head and whooped. Scott looked genuinely happy for him. Then he looked confused. Then his eyes just about fell out of his head.

“Wait is that actually why you’re walking funny? You _slept with a guy_?” Stiles knew he had a stupid grin on his face but he couldn’t wipe it off.

“Yup. I actually got into a nightclub, Scott, can you believe it? I still can’t believe it. And I didn’t think I would do more than maybe flirt with some people but this guy came up and talked to me and he was just so…” Stiles flailed his arms a little to get the point across. Scott seemed to get the point.

“Well congratulations, I guess.” Scott high fived him. “Who was it? Do I know him?” Stiles shook his head.

“He looked like a freaking model, I’m not sure what he was even doing in Beacon Hills anyway.”

“Is that you or the beer goggles talking?” Scott asked with a smile. Stiles punched his arm lightly in response. The rest of the day followed without incident, and if Stiles jerked off to the memory of Derek once or twice over the next week who was to know?

But the next week Scott got bit. 

***

 

The whole werewolf thing really flipped everything on its head for a bit. Scott kept insisting he was fine, but Stiles was still worried. And a little bit jealous if he was honest. Not about the werewolf thing, but about something far more teenage and mundane. Instead of hanging out after school, Scott was now off running in the woods with his new werewolf buddies. Buddies which Stiles hadn’t even met, so could they really be called buddies? After all, he was Scott’s best friend. He still felt a pang of jealously whenever Scott went out like that, the feeling of missing out or possibly jealously curling in the pit of his stomach. Scott wouldn’t really tell him too much anymore, saying it could get him into trouble. Which left Stiles with little to do other than browse the internet in his room. On the bright side, all the extra time meant he was achieving perfect grades.

One Wednesday Stiles asked Scott yet again if he was free to hang out after school.

“I’m really sorry man but I’ve got, um, training,” Scott replied. Training was code for werewolf business, Stiles assumed. He sat back, twirling his pen between his fingers and barely paid attention to the rest of class. When the final bell rang Scott walked out to the Jeep with Stiles.

“Did you want a ride back to your place?” Stiles asked.

“Nah, I’m getting a ride from here.” Scott’s eyes scanned the parking lot.

“McCall” a voice called out from a few cars down. Stiles’ head snapped back in the direction of the voice. That voice was vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place it. Not until the person stepped out from behind their car. It was Derek. Freaking Derek from the club.

Stiles fell backwards against his Jeep and hoped he hadn’t been seen. But Scott, oh dear naïve Scott, decided to rectify Stiles’ complaint from a few days beforehand of not having met Scott’s new wolf friends, if they could be called that. He was waving Derek over. Why the fuck was he waving Derek over. Stiles just stared at Scott. He wished his Jeep would blow up. Or just straight up tip over and crush him. Anything to remove him from what was about to happen.

Derek didn’t see Stiles at first. He raised his eyebrow at Scott and motioned towards his car. Stiles prayed he just did what Derek wanted. He didn’t.

“Derek, this is my friend Stiles. Stiles, this is Derek.” At first it didn’t seem like Derek was listening to Scott. For about 2 seconds, anyway. He nodded when Scott said Stiles’ name. Then his eyes shot over to Stiles. The expression on his face was impossible to decipher.

“Heeeeey.” If Stiles could have drawn that one word out until he died so nothing else would have to be said then he would certainly have done it. Stiles chanced a glance at Derek. He looked mad. Stiles decided his shoes were the most interesting aspect of his life right then, and decided to study them in detail until the whole scene either ended or imploded on itself as it seemed to be doing. Scott’s eyes flicked between the two before shrugging and walking towards Derek’s car. Derek followed, shooting a glance back at Stiles as he walked away. Stiles didn’t think he had ever peeled out of the parking lot faster than he did right then.

 

***

 

“I feel guilty.” Scott’s puppy dog eyes peered at Stiles from behind his economics textbook. Stiles was sure he wanted him to probe, but he wasn’t in a probing mood. For about 5 seconds, anyway, since Stiles was always in a probing mood.

“And why is that?”

“Because I’ve basically abandoned you since this whole thing started. You should come with me later.” Stiles shifted in his seat to look at Scott.

“Do I need to bring anything? A dog collar maybe?” This was met with a dirty look from Scott, but Stiles couldn’t help himself. How was he supposed to deal with his best friend suddenly gaining the ability to morph into a werewolf if he couldn’t make jokes about it?

“Just don’t say stuff like that around Derek, ok. It’ll piss him off.” And that was about where Stiles knew he should have oiled the brakes on this runaway train better. Scott apparently mistook Stiles’ apprehension for fear of some sort. “He’s nice really. Well not nice exactly. But he’s not as scary as he looks.” Stiles wished fear was the extent of his problems with surprising Derek at his home.

 

Scott met him at his Jeep after school let out, walking with a freaking spring in his step like they were heading over to Derek’s to play happy families or something.

“He’s not going to like me showing up unannounced, just letting you know.”

“It’ll be fine, Stiles. He knows that you know about me so what’s the problem?” Stiles really didn’t know if he should tell Scott that he already knew Derek. Intimately. He decided against it.

Stiles tried to look surprised when they pulled up to Derek’s house in the clearing, but then again he had always been a terrible actor. If Scott wasn’t the most oblivious kid on the planet he probably would have picked up on many things Stiles had managed to get by him over the years.

Scott walked into the house like he’d known Derek for years, not even pausing to knock on the door. Stiles’ surprise was genuine when they walked over the threshold. The rooms that he could see seemed bare, with only a few pieces of furniture. The shelves were devoid of knick-knacks and no family photos hung on the walls. Not that Derek seemed like the type of guy to keep ceramic chickens on his coffee table, but still.

“Scott, why did you bring your pet?” Derek’s voice came from the kitchen. Scott rolled his eyes and whispered that Stiles shouldn’t any comments Derek made to heart.

“He’s a bit rough around the edges but give him a chance.”

Derek was leaning against a countertop reading a newspaper when they rounded the corner. A freaking newspaper.

“Checking out the classifieds?” Stiles couldn’t help himself. He really couldn’t. The withering look Derek shot his way did nothing to curb him.

“I thought Stiles could help with the situation we’re looking into,” Scott explained. “His dad’s the sheriff so he might be able to get us some info.” Scott looked so earnest that it sent a pang through Stiles’ stomach. Derek looked interested, focusing his impossibly blue eyes on Stiles.

“Know much about the suicides happening around town?” Derek asked. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. He thought sober Stiles would have done better than drunk Stiles at forming words in Derek’s presence. Apparently he was wrong. Scott elbowed him hard enough that he would probably have a McCall shaped elbow print on his ribs tomorrow.

“I heard my dad talking about them on the phone to someone. He was saying that he didn’t think they were suicides.”

“Ding ding, he’s getting somewhere.” Derek moved around the kitchen island to lean against the counter next to Stiles. Stiles became acutely aware of his own heartbeat which was running a mile a minute. He hoped it was mistaken for fear and not arousal.

“We think it’s a werewolf gone rogue. The marks on the bodies were made to look like suicides, but the scents on the crime scenes were all off and some of the injuries didn’t exactly look self-inflicted,” Scott explained. “We’ve been trying to track the rogue guy down, but we don’t really have any resources except ourselves.”

“If we don’t catch the wolf it could attract hunters to the area. Or possibly other packs who could try to make a claim on the territory,” Derek filled in.

“I’m not exactly versed in the supernatural. I wouldn’t know what to look for. Or do.” Stiles began to panic a little.

“We don’t need you to fight or anything,” Derek snorted. “But if you could get things like copies of the police reports or keep an ear out on the police scanner for anything suspicious it could help.”

 

And thus began Stiles’ transformation into a secretary. He didn’t actually think he’d look all too bad in a skirt suit. He had assumed that aiding in fighting werewolves would be exciting, maybe even fun. Paperwork was not fun. Eavesdropping on his dad was not fun. And working out how to steal and take photos of confidential files was definitely not fun. So far he had succeeded in finding a few possible leads from witness reports, and watched his dad’s confused expression when puzzling over the DNA evidence which told of copious amounts of wolf hair at the scenes. Stiles was in the process of reading a picture he had taken of a crime scene report for the fifth time when his window shot open hard enough he thought the glass pane would crack.

“What the hell, Scott.” Stiles threw up his hands at the sight of Scott dragging Derek through his window.

“We found the rogue,” Scott panted, dumping Derek onto Stiles’ bed, ignoring Stiles’ sounds of protest. “He’s a rabid alpha or something. Out of his mind, anyway. It’ll take a bit longer for Derek to heal, and the rogue was way too close to his house.”

“Woah, what are you doing?” Stiles asked as Scott pulled off Derek’s jacket and t-shirt, leaving him only a thin undershirt.

“He’ll heal faster if the injury is exposed,” Scott retorted as if this stuff was common knowledge.

“He’s bleeding on my sheets.”

“He’s injured.” Scott’s expression was deadpan. He made a move for the window.

“Woah, where are you going?” Stiles managed to grab Scott’s arm as he was halfway out the window.

“I need to go check up on my mom. She’s out tonight and I don’t want her to come across anything. Derek will heal, just give him some time. You’re the best.” Stiles watched Scott disappear through the window. He turned to look at Derek who was laying on Stiles’ blue sheets with his eyes closed. At least he didn’t appear to be bleeding on them anymore.

“What do I even do with you? Do I have to feed you? Pet you?” Stiles threw himself into his desk chair, swiveling around to watch Derek. Who was already watching him. “You stare a lot.” Stiles turned his eyes to his phone, flipping it in his hands. As if Stiles’ life at that moment could get no more awkward, his dad knocked at his door. Derek’s eyes went wide and flicked between Stiles and the door.

“Dude, what do I do?” Stiles hissed. He gestured towards the window but Derek shook his head. “Get in the closet then or something.” Derek shook his head again.

“Stiles, are you ok in there?” Sheriff Stilinski called out.

“Uh, yeah dad, just, uh.” Stiles pulled open the door a few inches and stuck is face in the opening. His dad just gave him a _look_.

“Listen, can we talk?” His dad pushed on the door slightly. Stiles hadn’t been expecting that and the wood slipped from his hands. Derek’s eyes seemed to take up his whole face and he stared at Stiles in a panic. Stiles attempted to block his dad from entering, but tripped over his own feet and ended up falling against the wall instead. His dad walked into his room and sat down on his desk chair. And then noticed Derek. Who was in Stiles’ bed. Why was he still in Stiles’ bed. In only an undershirt. Shit. Sheriff Stilinski’s eyes flicked between the two boys, one fidgeting and one stoic. Thankfully Derek broke the silence because Stiles had no idea what he would even say to explain the situation. Derek hadn’t entered through the front door, so he had clearly snuck in. And was now in Stiles’ bed.

“Hi Mr Stilinski, I’m Derek Hale.” Derek sat up with only a small wince, and offered his hand to the sheriff, who shook it, eyeing up the man in front of him.

“Stiles, step outside for a moment please.” His dad walked through Stiles’ bedroom door, gesturing for him to follow. Stiles shot Derek a look and followed him out.

“Do you want to explain what’s going on in there?” Stiles didn’t. He really didn’t. Obviously he couldn’t tell his dad Derek was healing from a werewolf injury, and if he said he hadn’t slept with Derek his dad would probably be able to sense the lie. Yet another moment when Stiles wished he wasn’t a terrible liar.

“Nope, not really,” Stiles replied, scratching the back of his neck. His dad stared at him for a moment before walking to the hallway closet and pulling out a large – and thankfully unopened – box of condoms.

“Now, I hadn’t given you anything because I thought I’d have a little bit of warning before it was needed but apparently not. I don’t get any, uh, lubricant but I’m sure you can take care of that yourself.” Stiles wished he could die. Like, if he could have any superpower he would wish for the ability to summon his death. Anything had to be less painful than this. “Just be safe, son.” His dad clapped a hand on his shoulder and walked back down the hall. Stiles rubbed his hands down his face and walked back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“You’ll probably get more use out of these,” he muttered, tossing the box of condoms at Derek.

“Please tell me I didn’t devirginise a 16 year old.” Stiles shrugged. Derek’s head fell into his hands.

“You could have warned me,” Derek hissed. His eyes seemed to grow a little bluer. “Does Scott know?”

“No, I didn’t tell him. It might’ve made his head explode. It’s making my head explode.” Stiles slid down the wall to sit next to the bed. “I’m not sure I can face my dad again.”

“And with that I’m leaving.” Derek pulled on his shirt and jacket, stepping towards the window.

“Wait, could you leave through the front door? I don’t want my dad to think you’re staying here.” Derek rolled his eyes but moved away from the window. As he passed Stiles leaning against the desk he pressed himself up against him, bracing himself with a hand on the desk.

“Now don’t pretend like you wouldn’t like that,” Derek smirked. His teeth were about an inch from Stiles’ nose. And, oh god, there was the arousal, making an appearance as always. Stiles swallowed. Seeming satisfied, Derek sauntered out the door. It took Stiles a moment to collect himself before shutting the door and leaning against it heavily. He knew Derek acted like that as a power play, but Stiles certainly didn’t mind. Or at least, his hormones apparently didn’t mind. He immediately went to take a cold shower, pushing any thoughts of Derek from his mind.


	3. III

Scott and Derek apprehended the rogue wolf about a week later. In doing so they discovered that it had been holed up in a small shack in the woods outside of the town, close to Derek’s house. And in that shack they discovered the jackpot: wolfsbane liquor. Scott had excitedly called Stiles to inform him that he could finally get drunk again – something Stiles hadn’t actually known werewolves couldn’t otherwise do. Meaning Derek wasn’t drunk during their tryst. Christ.

Stiles pulled up to Derek’s house in his Jeep, debating whether or not to walk in the door. Scott rushed outside to meet him, tripping over his own feet and falling in a heap to the ground.

“I see the party started without me.” Stiles helped Scott to his feet. He might not have had werewolf senses, but even he could smell the alcohol on Scott’s breath as he laughed.

“It’s not a party without you, Stiles. My man. My dude.” Scott punctuated every pause in the sentence with a laugh, grabbing Stiles by both arms and pulling him into a hug. Scott pulled Stiles by one arm towards the house, tripping over two porch steps on his way up. Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect from Derek, but he certainly didn’t expect to be accosted as soon as he walked in the door. Derek stumbled over and grabbed Stiles by the arm, pulling him in close and _smelling_ him.

“Dude, why are you doing that?” Stiles’ voice was muffled from Derek’s shirt. Scott started laughing. “Glad you find this amusing.” He paused for a moment but Derek didn’t let up. In fact, his hand was coming suspiciously close to the hem of Stiles’ shirt. Scott came back into the room holding a bottle of clear liquid.

“Is that the werewolf stuff you guys have clearly drunk your weight in?” Stiles took the bottle from Scott, half in acceptance and half to stop him from dropping it on the ground.

“It’s vodka, Stiles,” Derek snorted, finally letting him go.

“Derek got some for you,” Scott chimed in. Stiles wasn’t sure what had caused this change of tune in Derek. So, being Stiles he blurted it out without meaning to.

“So, do you like not hate me anymore then?” He wished it could have come out with more conviction. Or at least slightly less desperate sounding. Derek chuckled, running his hand through his hair.

“I never hated you, Stiles. I wasn’t sure I could trust you. But Scott does, and you really helped us with catching that rogue wolf, so thank you.” He tipped a glass full of purple coloured liquid in Stiles’ direction before downing it. Stiles accepted that answer, unscrewing the vodka bottle and taking a swig. And promptly spitting it out.

“What the hell, this is freaking cleaning fluid or something,” Stiles cried out.

“That’s what vodka tastes like, dumbass,” Scott said through peals of laughter.

“So innocent, Stiles,” Derek laughed. He wasn’t exactly looking at Stiles like he was innocent. In fact, he was looking at him like a piece of meat. More prepared, Stiles steeled himself before drinking from the bottle again. Though he probably made some awful facial expressions he did manage to swallow.

“I hear it gets easier the more you drink,” Derek offered, clapping Stiles on the shoulder as he walked past.

An hour later, Stiles was sufficiently drunk. Some crappy action movie was playing on Derek’s TV, though nobody seemed to really be watching it. Scott had fallen asleep on the couch. Stiles assumed he might be dead but hadn’t gotten up to check. Drunk Stiles decided it was the perfect time to question Derek.

“So, Derek. Werewolves don’t get drunk, hey,” Stiles finished his sentence off by drinking from the vodka bottle. Derek flashed him a toothy smile.

“I didn’t need to be drunk to sleep with you, Stiles. You’re not exactly an unattractive guy.” And, well he hadn’t expected Derek to be that forward. He could have fumbled a bit to get on Stiles’ level of awkwardness. Then again, someone that physically perfect probably never stumbled over their words. “Let’s maybe keep that to ourselves, though. I don’t want your dad to arrest me for statutory rape.” Stiles snorted. Possibly the least dignified response in the world.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait until I’m 18.” _Why_ did he say that.

“Patience isn’t one of my finer qualities. Neither is letting other people tell me what to do.” And Derek was sitting next to Stiles on the couch. Very close. His face was coming towards Stiles’. Instead of kissing him Derek nipped his jaw making Stiles jump.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Derek whispered. Stiles gulped. Derek leaned forward and pressed his lips to Stiles’, running his hand through Stiles’ hair. Stiles let out an involuntary moan and pressed his body into Derek’s, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue along Derek’s. In a flash Derek had picked Stiles up, wrapping his legs around his waist and walking out of the living room. He kicked the door of his bedroom closed behind them and lay Stiles down on the bed, sucking marks down his neck as he did so. Stiles felt like he was in heaven. If he ever went to heaven he hoped it would be exactly like this. Filled with perfect faced werewolves manhandling him and – oh wow Derek looked even better with his shirt off than the last time Stiles saw him. Derek lowered himself onto Stiles, parting his legs and grinding into him, pressing their hard dicks together. _Why_ were they still wearing pants? Derek pulled off Stiles’ shirt, leaving Stiles’ hands free to unzip Derek’s jeans. He pulled them down slightly and reached inside to run his hand along Derek’s dick. He wrapped his hand around the length as best he could and brushed his thumb over the tip of Derek’s dick, eliciting exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Derek pushed his hand away and pulled off his pants, leaving Stiles to remove his own. Derek grabbed Stiles by the chin and pulled him towards his groin.

“Suck it,” he commanded. Stiles wouldn’t have said no to anything Derek asked for in that moment. He took Derek’s whole length into his mouth, moving up and down with his lips and hollowing his cheeks. Derek stumbled slightly, his knees shaking. Stiles ran his hands up and down Derek’s thighs coming to rest on his ass. The man had a truly beautiful ass. He was quite enjoying his newfound blowjob passion when Derek pulled him off of his dick by the hair, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“On your hands and knees,” he commanded. Stiles did as he asked, resting on his forearms and presenting to Derek. He heard a moan behind him as he reached around to circle his own hole with a finger. Derek fell to his knees on the bed behind him and spread his cheeks, massaging the muscle. Derek pointed his tongue and pushed it into Stiles’ hole, licking around Stiles’ finger and making him moan so loud he wondered if Scott would wake up. Derek changed to long licks with a flat tongue over the area, dipping his tongue inside every few licks. Stiles was pretty sure he could hear angels singing.

“Derek, please fuck me,” Stiles moaned. Derek responded by pushing two fingers into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles licked up and down Derek’s fingers, jerking himself off to the same rhythm. Derek pulled his fingers from Stiles’ mouth and pushed them into his already open hole, wet from Derek’s tongue. Stiles was pleased to note that Derek was possibly even better than he remembered, hitting Stiles’ prostate with every curl of his fingers, grinding into Stiles’ thigh as he did so. Stiles fished the lube from the bedside table in a moment of temporary clarity, dropping it to the bed as Derek pushed a fourth finger into him.

“God, you take my fingers so good.” Derek bit Stiles’ ass cheek, letting some of his not so human teeth make an appearance. Stiles rocked back onto Derek’s fingers, fucking himself on them so hard he thought Derek might fall off the bed. Derek finally pulled his fingers out of Stiles, grabbing hold of his own dick and rubbing it on Stiles’ hole. Derek put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder blades and pushed, leaving him with his face pressed to the bed and his ass in the air. He reached back to pull open his ass cheeks, exposing himself to Derek and making him moan.

“Christ, you should see yourself. All stretched out on my dick.” The noises Derek was making were almost enough to send Stiles over the edge without any friction to his own dick. Stiles kept his hands there, pressing his face into the bed to muffle his moans. Derek started fucking into Stiles faster, pulling his length in and out and making Stiles’ head spin. Stiles took a hand off his own ass to touch himself but Derek batted it away.

“Don’t touch yourself yet,” he commanded. Stiles whimpered in response. Derek draped himself over Stiles, nipping at his back and covering it in small marks. Claiming him. Stiles enjoyed that prospect far more than he perhaps should have. The change in angle made Derek’s hips stutter and pick up speed. He swore and reached around to fist Stiles’ cock, twisting his hand at the base and thumbing over the tip. Stiles whimpered and began to thrust into Derek’s fist and back onto his dick. Derek’s breathing sped up and he thrust hard into Stiles as he came into his ass. The sound of Derek’s orgasm pushed Stiles over the edge, and he came into Derek’s hand before collapsing on the bed. Derek pulled himself out, cum leaking out of Stiles’ abused hole and onto the sheets.

Unlike their previous encounter Derek made no attempt to leave or redress himself. He rolled over, pulling the sheet out from under Stiles and placing it over him. And if Stiles ended up lying on Derek’s chest during the night neither of them seemed to mind.

 

***

 

Stiles was awoken the next morning by an uncharacteristically feminine scream from Scott. Sweet Scott had brought two glasses of water into the bedroom for Stiles and Derek, clearly expecting to see them fully clothed at separate sides of the bed. In his hazy state Stiles was acutely aware of the sheets _not_ covering his ass which was on full display as he lay on his stomach half draped over Derek’s chest.

“Are you guys _serious,_ ” Scott cried, covering his eyes with his arm. “Stiles, Christ, put yourself away.” Derek reached an arm out to pull the sheet over Stiles before closing his eyes again. Stiles could only muster up an indecipherable mumble. Thankfully Scott retreated from the room, leaving Stiles to sleep off his hangover, though he did apparently take Stiles’ Jeep to drive himself home in. Derek went about making bacon and eggs while Stiles lay his head on the counter in between sips of orange juice. He couldn’t help but notice how nicely Derek’s Calvin Klein’s framed his ass.

“So, uh, should we talk about last night or just…?” Derek waved his hand to gesture … Stiles didn’t even know. He could need quite a few more hours before he was sentient enough to decipher anything said to him. He was actually surprised Derek brought it up. He was planning on slinking away with his tail between his legs and calling upon the memories whenever he wanked in the shower.

“I mean … it was good. I liked it and wouldn’t object to doing it again,” Stiles replied. Derek seemed to be having a hard time looking him in the eyes.

“Just so you know, I don’t do this a lot. Not the sex, but the sleeping in the same bed. The intimacy. The feelings.” Derek’s voice grew so quiet by the end of the sentence that Stiles had to strain to hear him.

“Care to elaborate?” Stiles pressed. Derek was staring so intently at his feet that Stiles began to worry for the health of the bacon he was cooking.

“It’s just … different with you. Like I care, I guess.” Derek occupied himself with serving up the breakfast, still not meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I never let anyone stay in my bed, and I certainly don’t make a habit of cooking breakfast for them. But there’s just something about you. I’m not good at talking about this kind of stuff, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Stiles smiled. There was something so incredibly endearing about Derek’s smooth and stoic exterior slipping away. Derek placed a plate in front of Stiles, finally meeting his eyes. “I’d like to see where this goes, if that’s ok with you.” Stiles leaned over the kitchen island to kiss Derek slowly, their lips tentative. There was no heated touching and no tongues meeting, but Stiles thought it was possibly the best kiss they had shared yet.

He took up Derek’s offer to drive him home since he no longer had the Jeep with him, and piled into the front seat of the Camaro. Stiles wasn’t expecting Derek to walk him to his front door, nor was he expecting him to weave his hand through Stiles’ hair and pull him in for a kiss right on his front stoop. Stiles nipped at Derek’s lip as he pulled back, eliciting a smirk from him.

“I’ll text you.” Stiles promised. He opened his door, waving at Derek as he closed it. A cough caused him to whirl around and see his father standing there with a smile on his face. He clapped Stiles on the back and gave him a thumbs up.

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles grinned. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he made his way up to his room. And if he fist pumped a couple of time along the way there was nobody around to see him. As he closed his bedroom door behind him he felt a warm rush of air across the back of his neck. He turned to see Derek standing behind him.

“I couldn’t wait for you text,” he explained.

“Yeah, patience is definitely not one of your virtues,” Stiles smirked. He leaned forward to kiss Derek, rubbing a hand down his arm and pulling him towards the bed. And if they spent the night doing nothing more than cuddling and laughing, nobody else had to know.


End file.
